


Scalene

by StoryCloud



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bill is driving Dipper insane, Deleted Scene, Gen, Lies, Light Angst, Paranoia, character injury, there is no romance, what if
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoryCloud/pseuds/StoryCloud
Summary: This was so much easier, and so way more fun - convincing Pinetree that he was his pal, and that the Mysterious Author was an evil scientist bent on destroying the world.An AU in which Bill uses a different approach when meeting Dipper, and gains the boy's trust before the unsuspecting Ford arrives.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will NOT to quick if I do decide to commit to this. I have a project going on and that needs to be my top priority; this was done on a break to help blow off some steam. This idea came from an idea - what if Bill convinced Dipper, using clever half-truths and spins on real events, that the Ford was evil, and the journal more so?

He was dreaming. This was not real. Mabel had slipped a sugar cube into his drink, or he’d accidently consumed the dreaded concoction he deemed ‘Mabel Juice’. Yes, Grunkle Stan, coffee and nightmares just had a baby and it’s about to devour your nephew’s soul. That was the most frightening thing, and for some reason, with the sight before him, Dipper felt like laughing. He was laughing, and crying, and trying not to lose his mind –

He’d just been reading. Then a loud ‘pop’ had interrupted his cryptic thoughts and he was just about to tell Mabel to go play early-birthday somewhere else when he remembered that Mabel was currently watching Duck-Tective.

It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, that churn in his gut.

Then.

Everything was grey. His body was stone-cold and a thundering black sphere stood in his bedroom, and Mabel wasn’t there. Trust her to vanish when he really, really didn’t want to be alone. And he couldn’t move, that was the worst part, being pinned in place while some horribly vivid nightmare was playing in front of your eyes.

A rumbling growl rippled from the void standing in front of the boy, and his knees shook of their own accord. He hadn’t disintegrated or been swallowed, all good, all good, he just needed to grab the journal. His eyes fell on the book, sitting just a few measly steps away.

Inching forward proved difficult, he could feel the ground swaying beneath him. Dipper let out a yelp, feeling a sharp tug on his hair. Oh man, it was going to pull him in, he had to –

The rumbling within was ascending into a mighty bellow. Dipper stiffened, heart hammering, eyes bulging, he couldn’t stop shaking and was he really going to die in some unexplainable nightmare and no one would no, no one would find out –

Pop.

Something burst out of the black void and flipped thrice in the air. Dipper shrieked, arms rising up and...it’s a triangle.

Its, it’s a triangle, guys.

The...triangle, one he’s certain he’s seen before, can’t place it, wriggled in the air like a stranded astronaut before flipping upright. Black, stick-like arms rose and it was suddenly very easy to tell that its beaming.

“Ta-da!”

Dipper’s eye twitched. And once again, he had to remind himself that his boisterous, happy twin wasn’t in the room with him.

The triangle floated forward, and with an air of finesse, it pulled a cane from behind its back (Dipper’s brow grew more and more creasy by the minute) and the triangle kicked out his feet in a little dance.

“Da-da-da-da-daaaa!”

The voice was odd, not quite robotic, not quite clear. Dipper found his fear had evaporate quite completely, as had the void. Yep, this was a sugar-induced dream. He frowned blearily at the little triangle, even as he finished his mid-air tap dance. Mid-air tap dance.

“HEY THERE, PINE-TREE!” A black hand reached out and flicked his nose. Dipper reeled back, grimacing so hard his lips hurt. Why the nose?!

“Hey!”

“NICE MINDSCAPE, VERY AMBIENT, YOU SHOULD SEND OLD S.KING A TELEGRAM ON COLOUR SCHEMES.” The Triangle somehow leant back in the air, one leg hooked merrily over the other. Dipper shook his head. Waking up didn’t seem to be an option, so. Yeah.

“Uuh...who are you? And why am I dreaming you?”

“KID, YOU **WISH** YOU COULD DREAM ME UP.” The triangle said, flicking a hand in a way that would make a sassy fashion designer weep in envy. “I KNOW YOU, OF COURSE, BIG DIPPER. WOW, WERE YOUR PARENTS GUTSY OR WHAT?”

A paranoid feeling danced through the boy’s mind just then, like burning letters behind his eyeballs, “Wh- why, how do you know that?” He ended up babbling.

“OH. I KNOW LOTS OF THINGS.”

The triangle split in two. Dipper’s jaw hit the floor. There’s two of them now, and before he could wrap his head around it, it’s three. They floated down to the floor, standing with their hands on their proverbial hips. “I KNOW YOUR REAL NAME IS MASON.”

Dipper made a noise reminiscent of a duck being trod on.

“AAAND.” Is it possible for something with no face to rub its chin? Apparently, “THAT YOU...OOH.” The expression on the triangle’s face turned particularly sneaky and Dipper felt his stomach plunge, “OH, HO, YOU SPEND A LOT OF TIME THINKING ABOUT SOME RED HEADED GIRL.”

Dipper’s face burned. It was burning off, he knew it, and he would like it to burn the rest of him so he wouldn’t face anything again.

“OOO...” The second triangle reeled in his arms delightedly, “GIMME DETAILS, GIMME DETAILS!”

Dipper raised his own arms, trying to form words, but couldn’t. The first triangle leaned over to number two and started whispering away at a mile a second.

Numerous two spared him a gleeful look moments later, “OH, THAT’S _SCANDALOUS_!”

Dipper dragged his hat over his face, muffling the screech that came next, _“What do you want?!”_

“CALM DOWN, CALM DOWN.” The two other triangles slip...back into the first one with a sickly sounding noise. The boy cringed, but said nothing of it. The triangle’s jubilant look faded a little, and Dipper had no idea how he noticed.

Triangle-guy sat down on a chair – a chair that had appeared from nowhere. Dipper rubbed his eyes, but when he looked again, yep, it was still there. “I’LL LEVEL WITH YA, KID. I CAME HERE TO WARN YOU.”

A chill seeped slowly into Dipper’s brain, his heart giving a frightened little thrum. His voice fitted it like a glove. “Wh...what?”

Something lifted him up. Dipper squawked, arms and legs thrashing, but then it came to light that a chair had scooped him up like soup in a ladle and hefted him closer to his strange, glowing guest. He gripped the edges of the chair, swallowing his fright as the seat settled back on the grey floorboards. The triangle put his hands behind his head, leaning back, eye slightly narrow.

Oh, huh, he’s wearing a bowtie...

The triangle held out his hand, “NAME’S BILL CIPHER. DREAM DEMON, BILLION-YEAR OLD ENTITY, LIBERATOR OF THE SECOND DIMENSION, AND TAP DANCING EXTRAORDINAIRE.”

Dipper blinked. Demon? As in, soul-stealing demons? Hell-hounds and fiery pits? If someone told him about a demon, he’d expect more dark and dreary and...

“DON’T MIND THE DEMON PART, KID, JUST MEANS I CAN GO INTO PEOPLE’S DREAMS AND CRITIC. YOU GET A FIVE OUT OF TEN, BUT A FOR EFFORT, KID!”

Dipper felt the tension seep out of him, strangely enough, something about the guy’s hand-waving tone made him feel a bit better. He didn't understand why and he was actually pretty against his own levelling heartbeat. At least he hadn’t try to gnaw his legs off like those gnomes. He shook his hand, laughing shakily.

His look turned awkward. “Um. Just Dipper, no titles.”

“THEY COST A LOT LESS THAN YOU THINK.” Said Bill, waving his hand around. “THE LONGER THE TITLE, THE MORE EXPENSIVE. I GOT THE FIRST ONE WITH A FREE SCREAMING HEAD.”

Dipper closed his eyes, breathed, and flexed his fingers. Okay, that aside, “Y-you said you wanted to warn me?”

A tea-cup literally poofed into being in front of him. With an eye on it. A matching teapot appeared in Bill’s hand and he poured some steaming tea into the mug. “YEP. SORRY, KID, BUT SINCE I’M BOUND TO THIS JOINT, I NOTICE EVERYTHING OF THE SUPER-NATURAL INCLINED.”

Questions exploded in Dipper’s head and he took the cup quickly, without meaning to, “Really? Could you tell me about –“

“THE BOOK YOU FOUND? The triangle’s teapot vanished. He held the tone of someone delivering a total mood-whiplash statement, and Dipper felt his skin crawl. “HATE TO TELL YA, BUT THAT BOOK IS CURSED.”

Dipper’s insides froze solid. He felt the ice in his heart, the bubble in his throat. The journal – cursed? But, but how? It told him so much, the prose was so heartfelt and inquisitive. There was no malice, no anger or evil cackling scribbled in, and it was the work of a mysterious stranger that loved what he was doing, what he was cataloguing. How could it be cursed?

“C-cursed? But how?” Dipper sipped at his tea. Pleasantly sweat, but it didn’t unclog his throat. It couldn’t be. He didn’t want to think that way, that the author, whoever he may be, was someone bad. The idea was – unthinkable. “Did someone put the curse on it after it was hidden?” That sounded reasonable, hey, it wouldn’t be Mabel’s fault if someone stole one of her jumpers and made it hex the wearer.

But that hope dissolved when the demon before him heaved a sigh, “KID, THE AUTHOR? MAYBE HE WAS A SWELL GUY ONCE, FOOLED ME WHILE HE WAS AT IT, BUT HE CHANGED. OH BOY.”

The triangle’s yellow form changed.

Dipper shrank back in his seat as the demon’s body flickered like a screen, portraying triangular-framed images. A symbol, red hot and hissing, a mouth grinning wide, brick-like teeth, a blue eyes with a pin-point pupil and –

A six-fingered hand reaching out towards him.

**“HE CHANGED.”**

“No!”

Dipper flung his hands up. Bill floated off his seat, but instead of scalding the boy, the tea simply hovered in the air. The zero-gravity effect was dizzying.

Slowly, Dipper let his arms fall away. He felt numb.

“Y...you knew the Author of the Journals?”

Suddenly, he felt very, very afraid, like the walls were closing in on him. It couldn’t be true; this – demon – could be lying, trying to trick him. The journal said not to trust anyone, hadn’t it? It could be lies.

But the searing symbol he’d seen, it had scared him more than the extra-fingered hand had. But _why?_

It came to him in a wave of horror and fright. He’d seen it before.

“Grunkle Stan’s tattoo. That was Grunkle Stan’s tattoo.” He whispered, raised his head. Bill landed on the floor before him with a ‘plonk’ – and it was only then that Dipper realised he was sprawled out on the floorboards.

The demon snapped his fingers and Dipper floated upright again, his hat landing back on his head. But he didn’t notice, unease rattling his insides, “Why does Grunkle Stan...?”

“SURE YOU CAN STOMACH IT, PINETREE?” Bill pressed, eye narrow and hand on his non-existent chin. Dipper leaned forward, his eyes near manic.

“Yes!” He had to know, he couldn’t stand not knowing, “I can, I can, just –“

Bill lifted his arms in what appeared to be a shrug. “OKAY, KIDDO. RELAX, I’LL TONE IT DOWN. BE PREPARED, ‘KAY?”

Dipper breathed in, and gave a nod.

The demon’s form changed again.

Noises played through the image, again, like a video. Dipper stared, transfixed. Voices yelled. Two figures were fighting, one was thrown back, his face pushed into the light, A man with a square-jawed face, big nose, and long, scraggly hair in a classic mullet. A hand was clawing at his face, six-fingered and fast.

The symbol re-appeared. Nearby. It was...on the side of a desk, okay, he got that. For a moment, Dipper almost snorted. Any thought of laughing at the scene evaporated moments later.

Mullet-man was toppling back, blocking the symbol from view –

The man was pressed against the symbol.

Dipper heard it give a loud, sickly hiss, like the branding you see in movies. But it wasn't a sound effect, wasn't a cow in an old barn movie, it was a human being. The man’s face contorted in pure agony and Dipper felt his heart twist, because that _scream_ –

“Grunkle Stan?” He whispered.

Oh please, no, this wasn’t happening, Grunkle Stan was downstairs –

A boot was pressed against his uncle – younger, barely thirty, so young and in so much pain – against his chest, pressing him right up against the burning sigil. Dipper felt horror and fury bubble inside, but he could do nothing, couldn’t help him.

He watched his uncle crumble to the floor, eyes drooping and his hand reaching uselessly towards the wound.

The scene ended, and he was staring at Bill’s happy yellow form again, and Dipper felt a little comforted by the colour. But he still felt sick.

“The boot – the Author?” He whispered. “The author attacked Grunkle Stan?”

He still has the scar, clear and clean and burned right into his back. Dipper covered his mouth.

“STAN PINES, GOT TOO INVOLVED I HEAR, TRIED TO STOP HIM.”

“S-stop him?”

Stan had met the author. Stan had fought the Author - and the Author had attacked him, burnt a brand into his back. What else did he do? Horrible ideas popped into his head, one after the other, and then another though steam-rolled them. Stan knew about all this magic stuff? And he blatantly pretended not to - why?!

That stung more than it should've...

“YEP. I COULDN’T GET PAST THAT BARRIER THE AUTHOR BUILT, BUT YOUR OLD GRUNKLE DID, ENDED UP WITH A PERMANENT TATTOO TO SHOW FOR IT.”

Bill lifted his hat.

Gravity changed. Dipper let out a yelp as he slid backwards, still in a perfect kneeling position. Bill rummaged around inside his hat for a moment before pulling something out and plonking it back on his head, and with a lurch, the world levelled itself.

The boy was about to well, to ask what the heck that was about, but then the triangle held something out – a chocolate bar. He blinked.

“HERE, KID, NATURAL REMEDY, IT’LL HELP WITH THE HORROR OF SEEING YOUR UNCLE BRUTALLY MUTILATED BY THE GUY YOU’VE BEEN IDOLISING.”

Ouch.

Dipper tried to swallow the hurt, the faded feeling in his chest. The chocolate stuck his tongue and teeth together, and he munched mournfully. It hurt more than it should have. He was an idiot, though, to think he’d unveiled something so marvellous, so invigorating.

Part of him wanted to go on believing it wasn’t true, but he thought of Grunkle Stan and that tattoo – that brand on his back, and his touchy-ness about it. Oh gosh. He didn’t want to talk about it because someone had forcefully burned it into his skin. Not because there was a funny incident behind it.

“THING IS, PINETREE, FINDING THAT JOURNAL’S BROUGHT UP AN ITTY BITTY PROBLEM.” Bill drawled suddenly, one finger in the air in an off-handed way. Dipper swallowed his mouthful of chocolate. Or tried, at least, his throat wouldn’t work properly.

“H-hmm?!”

Bill glanced back at him, hands up once more. “YA SEE, NOW THAT YOU AND THAT VENTRILIQUIST DOLL KID HAVE THE JOURNALS, IT MEANS THAT WIERDO CAN COME BACK AND DESTROY LIVE AS WE KNOW IT. AND KID, I LIKE HAVING SOMEWHERE TO **STAND** , KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING?”

Dipper’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s.

Wait a minute, ventriloquist dummy? “Wait, the other journal – someone has it? Who?!”

“YOU KNOW THE GUY.” Bill proclaimed, “GIDEON.”

That was a punch to the gut.

“AND THAT CURSE HAS ALREADY WORKED ITS MAGIC ON HIM, HUH? WHAT KID HAS WHITE HAIR AND THAT MANY DIMPLES?”

“Gideon?” Dipper leaped to his feet clutching the half-eaten chocolate bar like a bat, “He has the other journal?!” Of course he did. The pendant, the creepy behaviour, it made sense that he knew more about this place that he'd entailed. 

Oh man, okay, he needed – but wait, Gideon had white hair because of a cursed book? Made sense, that guy was way too shifty to be an supernatural-clean human being. Dipper started pacing, the grey floorboards plodding beneath him. “I have to get it back! He can’t be trusted and if its messing with his mind and giving him possessed powers and...”

He turned to Bill, blinking. “Wait, what exactly would it do to him...?”

And more importantly, to Dipper? The impications weren't lost on him.

Bill pointed at him, “NOW YOU’RE ASKING THE SMART QUESTIONS!” He said, nudging the cap on his hat. Dipper blinked, “HE’S HAD THAT BOOK FOR YEARS, SO RIGHT NOW YOU’RE IN THE CLEAR, PINETREE. BUT IT LED HIM TO THAT MAGIC PENDANT OF HIS, LET HIM INTO ALL THIS PLACE’S WORST KIND OF SECRETS IN EXCHANGE FOR THAT TINSEY LITTLE TRIVEL YOU GUYS CALL A SOUL!”

“The journal will steal my soul?!”

“NOT UNTIL YOU BENEFIT POWERWISE FROM IT. THAT’S WHEN OLD AUTHOR SINKS HIS CLAWS IN.”

The journal lay in the corner, open at the page about zombies. Innocent and made of paper. Dipper suddenly wanted nothing more than to take a lighter to it.

Power-wise? Dipper ran through the list in a paranoid brain-sweep. He hadn’t gotten money, fame, or anything like that. Just saved his sister from gnomes and, well researched. That didn’t count, he had no power, and Bill would have said, right?

“RELAX, YOU’D KNOW IF YOU HAD NO SOUL, YOU’D BE WEARING A DAPPER SUIT TO MATCH THE EMPTINESS IN YOUR EYES.”

Gideon’s creepy little half-smile when he told him Mabel just wasn’t interested flashed through his mind. He shuddered. “Urgh. Okay, so uh...what to do I? Burn the book?”

Bill laughed, as if that statement was genuinely funny. “YOU THINK SOMEONE WHO KNEW THAT MUCH ABOUT ALL THE SUPERNATURAL MUMBO-JUMBO WOULD LEAVE THEIR CURSED OBJECT THAT VULNERABLE? YOU TRY TO BURN THAT THING, IT’LL PROBABLY EAT YOU.”

Dipper recoiled.

“WELL, PINTREE, WE GOT A MESS ON OUR HANDS, BUT DON’T WORRY, I GOT A PLAN.” The demon snapped his fingers and a mirage of letters appeared beside him, spelling out _plan_  in florescent pink. It didn’t make Dipper feel any better, but the familiarity of the Mabel-ness of this response was...okay.

Bill placed his hands together and slowly drew them apart. “I CAN USE MY DREAM-POWERS TO HELP YOU SWIPE THE OTHER JOURNAL FROM GIDEON. DOWNSIDE? I CAN’T EXIST IN YOUR REALM. I’M JUST AN ENTITY THAT RESIDES IN AN INTEREMINSIONAL PLANE WAITING TO BE SUMMONED BY GENUISES LOOKING FOR A MUSE. GIDEON CALLED ME, YOU KNOW, BUT I KNEW RIGHT AWAY HE WAS HOOKED ON MAGIC.”

Muse? Wait, he was invoked like some kind of genie. Dipper swallowed, eyeing him reproachfully, “Sooo...if you’re stuck there, how can you help me?”

“SIMPLE.” Bill leaned back and gestured idly, “WE JUST –“

He stopped, single eye wideneing. “OH.”

Tension made the air feel heavy. Dipper was all too aware of his own heartbeat. “What is it?”

“GIDEON’S PLANNING SOMETHING, I CAN SENSE IT.” Bill was silent for a moment, and then he blinked, “DARN, THAT’S PRETTY BRUTAL.”

Dipper realised too late that he was chewing violently on his nails. “What, what is it?!”

“HE’S GOING TO FORCLOSE YOUR HOUSE, FRAME YOUR UNCLE, AND PROBABLY HIT ON YOUR SISTER AGAIN.”

“Foreclose the house?!” Not exactly brutal...

Bill beamed, as if he’d just remembered something. “OH DID I MENTION THAT HE’S FOUND SOMETHING THAT CAN BRAINWASH PEOPLE?”

Noodle-arms were thrown into the air. “Bill!”

“YOU KNOW, POSESSION IS REALLY JUST **EIGHT TENTHS** OF THE LAW.”

“Bill!”

“NINE IS OVERRATED.”

_“Bill!”_

A bright light flickered into being some ways behind the triangle being. Dipper felt the air rush, the colours ripple through the room like something out of a corny eighties music video. He raised his arm to shield his eyes. What was...?

“SORRY, PINETREE, I BETTER GO KEEP TABS ON THE EVIL BABY MAN. YOU MAKE SURE NO ONE ELSE READS TOO MUCH OF THAT JOURNAL!” He started floating backwards towards the light, arms out, nonplussed. Dipper jabbered.

“Wait, how, what –“

“REMEMBER!” Bill’s voice grew louder as the light behind him spiralled, “REALITY IS A VARIABLE, TIME IS A CONSPIRISY MADE BY THE HIGHER-UPS, BUY GOLD BYEEEEEE –“

He was gone. And Dipper was lying on the floor, with a candy bar in his hand, his back aching and the entire colour returned to the attic. It was the closest thing a neurotic twelve-year old could get to being hangover. The colours were loud.

Mabel was louder.

“Hey Bro-bro.” She whispered, lying on her stomach on the staircase so her chin lay on the top step, eyes narrowed. “You were eating candy in your sleep. You’re gonna get so dream-sick.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“I’m already dream-sick, Mabel.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This encounter was based off that deleted scene the producers released.


End file.
